Afterwards
by BostonSox-Fan
Summary: What happens immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts? Post-DH, Pre-Epilogue. Character compliant.
1. Chapter 1

"_That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime." _

In fact, Kreacher did bring him a sandwich; he brought all of them sandwiches.

"T'anks, Kreach'r," Ron mumbled through a large bite of his sandwich. The elf bowed out of the room. Ron, nestled comfortably in the pillows of his old four-poster bed, continued to shove as much of the sandwich as he possibly could into his mouth. Harry laid back on his bed, thoughtfully munching on his roast beef.

"How long do you guys think we're going to stay here?" Harry asked.

"Probably not for too long," Hermione said as she nibbled on the corner of her sandwich. She remained perched on the edge of Ron's bed as she spoke, "Things are just going to have to be brought under control here, well, as much as they can be. But we'll be back at the Burrow by tomorrow afternoon, I'd guess; everyone just has to come and collect their…"

Ron lowered his sandwich to his knee as he swallowed his last large bite, his eyes slowly losing their luster. "Yeah. We have to head back soon. There's… lots to do."

Hermione frowned, placing her hand on his knee. He twitched slightly, but still managed a smile.

"We should probably go to sleep, then," Harry said. "Goodnight." He twitched the curtains shut, although Hermione thought she saw him smiling.

"Are you ok, Ron?" Hermione edged closer to him and placed her barely-eaten sandwich on the tray next to his bed. Ron nodded and smiled, although she could tell it didn't reach his eyes. She gripped his knee a little tighter, although it was more to brace herself than to comfort him. "Do you want to sleep together?"

Ron's eyes widened and she heard him choke a little on his sandwich. "What?" His voice sounded strangled.

"Oh! Oh, no, no… um, what I meant was, do you want to stay together? For tonight, at least? I don't really want to sleep by myself tonight. It would be… weird. I haven't slept without you two by my side for a long time, and I just thought—"

"Yes!" He gulped a bit to clear his throat, then nodded, putting down his sandwich. "I mean, sure, that would be fine."

"I'll just go and get my pajamas, then." She stood up and smiled at him, then quickly left the room as she muttered to herself, "What are you _doing_, Hermione?"

Ron leapt up, shimmying quickly out of his clothes and into his orange pajama pants. He stared at the orange Chudley Cannons shirt he usually wore to bed, debating whether or not to wear it, when Harry's head popped out from his bed curtains. "Hey, mate? Do you reckon you could cast a silencing charm? I don't care to know what you two do tonight..." He grinned and disappeared into his bed once more. Ron huffed, decided to pull his shirt on, and, after hesitating before getting back into bed, cast silencio—just in case. As he was slipping back under the covers, Hermione burst into the room, only slightly out of breath. Ron started to feel out of breath, himself, once he got a good look at what she was wearing. It may have only been a pair of silky shorts and an old t-shirt, but Ron was fairly certain it was one of his old t-shirts, and the barely-there shorts weren't helping at all.

Hermione glanced over at Harry's bed, then quietly tip-toed over to Ron's and climbed in next to him. There was a lot of space between them, but Ron could feel his body heat rising just knowing that she was in the same bed as him; it was different than on the hunt, because now the threat was gone and they were just two teenagers who had happened to share a very passionate kiss not hours beforehand.

"Oh, bugger it all," Ron said, and before Hermione could ask what was wrong, Ron had rolled over, grabbing her hip and tugging her closer to himself. "Listen, Hermione, I'm just going to say this now. You kissed me." He stared deep into her eyes, and Hermione's breath hitched slightly, fear eking into her features. "You kissed me, and now you're in my bed in those bloody pajamas, and I feel like we should be lying here and talking about everything that's happened and our feelings and all that, but I don't want to talk about my feelings, I don't want to just lie here quietly in my bed with you, and you kissed me."

"You kissed me back," she said quietly.

"Yes, I did, and I'm a bloody fool." Hermione felt stung by his words, but she couldn't bring herself to move; something in his eyes just wouldn't release her. "I'm a bloody fool because it should've been me that kissed you first." He pulled her closer, dipping his face so close that their noses brushed; he stared at her mouth for a moment, before glancing up into her eyes. "Let me make it up to you?"

She had barely nodded when he captured her lips. It was gentler than she was expecting, much gentler than their first kiss, and the anticipation that had built up crawled through her belly. She shivered as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on it gently as he rolled her onto her back. Releasing her lip, he settled comfortably on top of her, murmuring, "Alright?" She was left speechless by the last few moments, so she could only nod once more before he dipped in to kiss her once more. He took his time, kissing her eyelids, her nose, just below her ear, the soft dip where her neck met her shoulder. Hermione felt her eyes drift shut each time he let his lips drag over her skin, and she found the soft brush of his nose against her jaw intoxicating.

"Hermione," he said, his voice gruff. The very sound of him saying her name like that made her moan and dig her nails into his back. She raked her nails down his back, whispering his name into his ear, and he bucked gently against her—that's when she felt his arousal.

"Mmnn," she whimpered, trying to open her legs wider and push him against her once more. He ground against her hard, hissing against her neck, and she felt him twitch against her.

"We have to stop," he grumbled into her neck. "We have to stop right now."

"But…" she rolled her hips slightly, but he hesitated for only a moment before rolling away from her. She could hear him take a few deep breaths before he rolled over to look at her once more, this time with a genuine grin.

"We have all the time in the world now, Hermione. I don't want…" he waved his hands around inexplicably for a few moments, then continued, "I don't want to rush it. I want this to be perfect. You deserve perfect, not an old dorm room with a friend sleeping nearby. It shouldn't be because of our grief." Her face fell, but he snuggled closely to her, draping his arm over her waist and whispering, "All the time in the world, love."

**AN: So what do you think? I know it's been an incredibly long time, but seeing the movie has made me want to write again. I'm a little rusty, so if this isn't something you want to read, let me know. And on the flipside of that, if it is something you want to read, let me know that, too!**


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't bloody care!" Ron roared before quickly checking his tone, lowering his booming voice down to a threatening whisper. "I don't care, this is not the time. Our brother's funeral—yes, don't look at me like that, _funeral_—is in three hours, and you're off trying to shag my best friend? Don't you move," he jabbed a finger into the soft spot below Harry's clavicle, earning a grunt. He wheeled back on his sister, "I'm not some bloody oaf. I know that you're over the moon that this git's alive and the two of you want to run off and be together forever. I know how that feels, and I'm very happy that the pair of you have decided to come to your senses, but not _now_."

Ron felt a gentle hand on his back, and although he wanted nothing more than to waltz Hermione off and do exactly what he was reprimanding Harry and Ginny for, he knew it would have to wait. The cogs in his brain stirred, and he planned the best places to put the couple so they wouldn't be tempted to ignore his little speech. "You," he pointed at Ginny, "go to mum, she'll need someone to help with the cooking because Merlin knows she'll be making way more food than even I could eat." Ginny gave her brother a hard stare and left without a word. "And you," he rounded on Harry, who hadn't moved since he'd been caught trying to edge out of Ginny's room. "I need you to go help dad with the set-up, ok? Tents can't lift themselves." Harry nodded more times than necessary before bolting. Ron let his shoulders slump once he heard the door close behind him, whispering, "Did I do the right thing?"

The gentle hand that had anchored him throughout his tirade snaked around his middle, and he felt her cheek rest against his back. "You did very well," Hermione whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his back. They stood in silence for awhile, enjoying the freedom they now had with one another. Ron finally sighed, taking hold of Hermione's hand and turning to her with a sad smile. "We should go help, too. If you recall, a very smart and dashing bloke just pointed out that now was not the time to act on desires."

"Really?" Hermione leaned in closer to him. "Where in the world did that bloke go? Could you point him out to me?" Ron laughed and gave her a quick peck on the lips before ushering her out of the room.

"Would you mind helping mum and Ginny? I'm sure Gin's fuming at me right now, and it'd be nice to have someone get me back in her good graces." Hermione smiled and kissed him once more before walking quietly down the stairs. Ron scratched the back of his head, watching her go, but was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud bang. He sighed as he heard borderline-maniacal laughter, murmuring to himself, "I'll go check on George, then."

"George?" Ron knocked gently on the door before cracking it open and poking his head in. George was sitting with his back to the door, hunched over something, giggling to himself. Ron walked in and cleared his throat, but George only laughed again and muttered, "This is the one, Fred. This is the one!" Ron shuddered and laid a hand on George's shoulder, finally breaking his brother away from whatever he was doing.

"What? Oh, look, Fred! It's ickle Ronnikins!" George nudged an invisible person to his left, then beamed up at Ron. "Come to see our latest, Ronnie? Well, look no further! I've made a new kind of Sleeping Draught, one in which only pleasant dreams can be present! No more bad dreams, Ronnie, no more… Oh! Right, sorry! I can't take all the credit though. Fred came up with the idea, didn't you, Fred? Good idea, too. We figure people will be needing it after… well, after everything." He paused, stirring the small cauldron full of neon purple goop, making it return to a slightly less severe shade of lavender. "After this one, Ronnie, we'll make one so that the dreamer can choose the dream before they go to sleep! Fred will have to do the spells for that one though. I've always been total shite at the complicated spells." He nodded slowly, his eyes seeming to drain of their vibrant blue as he spoke, but they brightened up at some unheard cue. "Right you are, Fred!" He looked at Ron, grinning, "We'll be needing a test subject, there, Ronnie. Care to try it out?"

Ron couldn't stop trembling; George had only gotten worse over the course of the past few days. Ron knelt down and gripped George's shoulder more tightly. "Mate, you need to listen to me."

"Hear that, Fred? _We_ need to listen to _him_! We're older than you, ickle Ronnikins, so why would we need to be listening to you? If you wanna back out of testing, just tell us! No need to go all serious!"

"Fred's gone, George."

George blinked a few times and looked around, confusion descending. "Eh, must've slipped away when I didn't notice. Off to the loo, I s'pose. Bugger's bladder is tiny as a fly's, I tell you."

Ron couldn't help the tears that were burning his eyes, making them feel heavy. "No, George. He didn't go to the loo. He died in the Battle of Hogwarts, remember?" George's body went rigid, his eyes turning into hard stones. Ron was surprised at how quickly he moved, and his right eye stung, but no longer from tears. George paced around the room, muttering to himself as Ron held his slowly blackening eye.

"You… you get out! You don't know what you're talking about! He just slipped out to the loo, Ron. Merlin, you are one dumb fucker. Never… He's just…" George rounded on Ron, who was now standing. "What are you doing in here? Get out! OUT!" He began shoving Ron towards the door, but Ron managed to overpower him, shoving him a bit too hard into a wall.

"George, I'd love to just let you sit by and work through this in your own way, on your own time, but right now we don't have a lot of time. Fred's funeral is soon, and I need you to put on the robes mum laid out for you and try to pull yourself together for a few bloody hours. I can't…" Ron's breath quavered, but only for a moment. He took a step back from George, who seemed not be listening at all. "Come on, mate," he led George to the dress robes hanging from the hook on his door, "Put this on and meet me downstairs in ten, ok?" George nodded, slowly pulling the robes from the hanger.

Ron slipped out the door and immediately leaned against the wall, banging his head gently against it and repeating, "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"Alright, Ron?" Leaving his head against the wall, Ron mumbled something sounding vaguely like 'yeah.' He pushed himself away from the wall, turning to face his brother Bill. His brother looked smaller than he remembered him; shorter, withered almost. The scars stood out on his face, and his eyes didn't glitter with the usual Weasley mischief. "Ok, then. Well dad said we should start heading downstairs to field guests; they're popping in earlier than we expected." Bill turned to leave, and Ron felt himself involuntarily lunge after him, grabbing his elbow.

"Wait!" Bill turned around, eyebrow raised, and said nothing; Ron started to feel the awkwardness descend, not quite sure how to phrase his question. He cleared his throat, "Well, um… I just… I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do what, Ronnie?" Ron cringed at the nickname, immediately reminded of George.

"I can't keep being strong." His voice wavered and he released Bill's elbow, letting his arm fall limply at his side; he felt like his heart had been punctured and all of the stress and anxiety and grief he'd kept bottled up was slowly leaking out. "I've been trying so hard these past few days to be the guy everyone can lean on. I've tried to be there for mum and dad, I've tried to keep whatever part of George's sanity that's left alive, I've tried to be the one people go to so they don't pester Harry, I've tried to be a man Hermione would be proud of, but I just can't anymore. It's too hard." Ron didn't realize until he was done speaking that the tears he'd felt gathering in his eyes earlier had finally fallen and wet his cheeks. He lowered his head, ashamed of his outburst and his tears.

Bill grasped Ron's shoulder and whispered, "I understand. You've been a wonderful help these past few days, and I'm very proud of you. I'm also sad that I couldn't help you, that I put the burden on you. I'm the oldest, and it should've been me taking on all this responsibility, so I hope you can forgive me. I just want you to know that this moment isn't one you should be embarrassed about; everyone breaks down, no one can be a pillar of strength at all times. A true man, though, can pick himself back up afterwards and keep going." He paused for a moment so that Ron could collect himself. "Let's go downstairs."

Ron swayed on the spot for a minute. "I was too harsh with George."

"He needed it," Bill said, then pulled Ron in for a quick hug. "C'mon, mate, if we don't hurry mum'll attack the guests with food, and that can get dangerous." Ron laughed and swiped at his eyes quickly before following Bill down the creaky stairs.

**AN: Sorry this was a little late in coming, but life got a tad hectic there for awhile. Hopefully chapters will be coming more quickly from here on out.**


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